


The Monster Who Came out of the Dark

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Captivity, Emotional Hurt, Hiding in Plain Sight, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Masochism (mentioned), Mistakes, Supernatural Elements, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-04 19:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: Jev kept his hand over the man’s mouth and tried to gain some control of the frantic mind before him. It was just like trapping an animal. First you have to appear calm and powerful, but not dangerous. Then, when it stills, you strike, grabbing it and holding on - until it stills completely.(Jev has had a long and turbulent life. He's just trying to get what he wants, while doing what he's told.)





	1. Until It Stills

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y'all! :) This turned into a whale of a work, so I'm committing the mortal sin of posting multiple chapters all in one go. Please forgive me. ;) This was inspired by a love of vampires, Jev generally being a bit Jev, and a ship I hadn't considered but once saw prompted... I hope you like it. :)  
Oh and forget the real-life timeline, I have taken a whole lot of liberties.

\- 1966 -

He moved slowly across the room, dragging his feet over the filthy floor. Everything felt so heavy, as if the darkness itself had been weighted down and was now pressing in, already having filled the room, looking to crush him too.

Not that he cared.

From a very distant part of his mind came a voice, thin as the spider’s webs over by the boarded-up window, as always calling for him to get out. He didn’t listen. The only sound he could really hear was the rasping of his own feet as he went over to the boards and started picking at the bottom one, scraping at it with his long nails. As usual, only a few splinters broke off. He didn’t really feel them press their way into his skin, making his fingers bleed sluggishly.

The door opened suddenly and the light from the hallway was blindingly bright.

Oh no.

“Jean-Eric, what _are_ you doing?” the voice admonished him as though he were a child.

No.

When he woke up again he was on the floor. He got gingerly to his feet, unsteady and shaky, and somewhere inside there was a sharp wail of pain, of loneliness and all the despair his mind could still muster the presence to feel.

The only thing his body did was start the slow, tedious walk back to the window. Even though he couldn’t hear it, he was obeying the call of _out, out, out_ as senselessly as he obeyed all the other orders he was given. Sooner or later, in one way or another, he would get out.

But a lingering memory of that same voice said he’d have to die first.

\--

\- 1970 -

Four years later, which simultaneously felt like the blink of an eye and a long, drawn-out and feverish dream to Jean-Eric, he was walking along a sunny Rue de Millo. It was usually a pretty quiet street – quiet for Monte Carlo at least – but today it was crowded and buzzing, alive with a crowd slowly trickling down the narrow streets towards the harbor. Their noises and scents coupled with the harsh sunlight to give Jev a pounding headache, but he focused as best he could on François’ back and tried to keep up as the older man cut through the crowds like the luxury boats below cut through the waves.

“Come on, we’ll miss the start!” François called, turning to walk backwards for a bit, smiling at Jean-Eric and of course instantly bumping in to someone in the crowd. He turned forward again and Jev lengthened his stride, trying to catch up.

Despite being so much older, François was like an excitable child sometimes, somewhere between walking fast and almost skipping along down the street. He’d always done better than Jev out in the open and the crowds didn’t seem to bother him at all; in fact, he seemed invigorated by the presence of so many people, constantly turning this way and that, as if he was trying to take in every last one of them.

They walked down the wide, winding stairs, and the blissful shade of the trees and houses gave way all too soon to the glaring sunlight and the glittering sea. Jev squinted. The street running all along the harbor had been transformed, fenced off and bedecked in flags and banners of all colors, and dotted like a string of vibrant pearls stood a row of shiny cars, lining up for some kind of display lap.

The whole race, François kept talking and pointing out things to Jev, who could do little else but stare. It was so _fast_. He only vaguely remembered his old life, shrouded behind a heavy curtain of constant, absolute darkness that François had helped him finally get out from. What he _did_ remember felt just like this. Glitz and lights and constant flitting about, moving so fast it was impossible for the human eye to keep up.

His eyes were no longer human though, and for what felt like the first time in a long time, Jev smiled. François seemed to notice the change in his mood and kept throwing him fond looks, but refrained from saying too much more. Jev was grateful as he focused on the roar of the cars, the drivers, the banners and symbols of all the teams and sponsors. This was what he wanted.

That night they ventured out, finding a party where several other spectators and even a few people who actually worked around the racecars and drivers. While Jev would have been quite happy to try to find out more about the racing and everything he was too hungry to really focus at that point. When François started hitting on a pretty girl who had come to watch one of the French drivers and who simply _adored_ their accents, he left the thoughts of the fast cars behind and followed them quite readily into the darkness.

But when the red haze of hunger had settled and he closed the door to her bedroom, not wanting to listen on as François satisfied himself with her, he couldn’t help but pick up the racing programme that she had dropped in the hallway and tuck it away safely in his pocket.

\--

\- 1977 -

Despite François calling it foolish, childish, all manner of names, Jev set had already set his plans in motion. He started figuring out the paperwork, all the documents and documentation he would need, and he started properly learning English, as it would only benefit him if he ever did become a racer.

No. Not if. _When_.

\--

\- 1998 -

Jev made a face as his fangs broke the skin of the young man and the blood hit his tongue. It was thin, almost unpleasantly bitter, and his heartbeat was already so labored that Jev wouldn’t dare take too much. The boy was drunk. Very drunk. He strongly suspected that was the only reason he’d been able to overpower him so easily, despite being weakened by weeks of not feeding.

He’d killed. Again.

It had been purely by accident, but accidents required compensation, so he had refrained from eating. Again.

He hated it. He was not allowed to kill, nor should he be allowed to be comfortable – the pangs of hunger were a relief to him. He was doing the right thing, but he hated being hungry.

The young man stirred slightly, groaning something in his stupor. The heavy thumping of the heart was the only sound Jev could hear though, and it was steady. Speeding up, actually.

“Qu'est-ce que... lâchez!”

The young man suddenly jerked awake, struggling to pull his arm free of Jev’s hold. Jev eased off on his bite with a snarl, one hand still gripping the boy’s wrist and one coming up to cover his mouth as he started to shout. His eyes were wide and wild, unfocused from the alcohol, but instincts much older than either one of them were telling him to flee, flee by any means. He began kicking his legs, sending a trashcan tumbling with a crash that echoed through the alley.

Jev kept his hand over the man’s mouth pressed down hard while he tried to gain some control of the frantic mind before him. It was just like trapping an animal, François had explained to him once. First you have to appear calm and powerful, but not dangerous. Then, when it stills, you strike, grabbing it and holding on until it stills completely.

The man struggled for a few moments and then suddenly went limp. His arms fell against the asphalt and his sneakers made a rasping sound as his lifeless legs drifted outward. Jev focused on not pushing too hard, not ruining the man but merely sending him to sleep. A drunk mind could forget a lot of things, and he didn’t want to _control_ him.

Darkness was suddenly so close though. It was an appealing feeling to let that darkness come through and envelop the man, silence his mind and make him a willing puppet. Jev shook his head and pulled his hand back, the touch suddenly ice cold. He knew how badly that soft, inviting darkness could cut.

Making sure he could still feel the man’s heart beating, Jev got up. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around, but nobody was approaching and the sounds of the street were going on as if nobody had heard them. The thundering music of two nearby nightclubs was starting to drown the heartbeat out.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. François had never told him that in that moment, you could hear them. The mind wasn’t merely an animal, afraid of being captured or killed; it was a vocal presence, crying for its life, shrieking to be released.

_He wondered what his own mind had sounded like, all those years ago._

_He wondered if his mind had screamed at François when..._

With tears burning on his cheeks he turned around and walked out of the alley and back down the street, hurrying onto one of the late trams. He made it all the way back home and into the bathroom before doubling over and falling to his knees, his stomach emptying itself. The following evening he woke up on the floor in a horrible mess, and hungrier than he could remember being in a very long time.


	2. Friends New And Old

\- 2014 -

Jev blinked at the bright camera flashes and tried to remember both to smile, stand up straight, and look as though he was shaking Franz Tost’s hand. It had taken so much work to get there. The papers were signed, the deals were made. He was officially going to be a racecar driver.

He had met the team before, when he was vying for a position in the young driver’s program, but he’d only had a little bit of contact with Daniel who was now going to be his teammate. When the photographer waved Frank aside, Daniel stepped up to take his place, a huge smile reflecting the sharp flashes of lights, reaching out to shake Jev’s hand. Then he seemed to change his mind.

“Nah, let’s do it like this!” he said, putting his arm over Jev’s shoulders. Jev found himself pulled in, pressed against Daniel’s side, actually laughing.

It felt like another sign of the good things to come; Jev had practiced driving, had trained long and hard and focused solely on this, reaching the highest racing series in the world, and with ink on paper it was finally coming true. He was _good_ at it, he felt _free_ in the car, the speed and the power was intoxicating and filled him with such joy when he drove that he didn’t doubt for a second this was what he was meant to do. Freedom. He was done being told what to do. Smiling broadly, he gave the thumbs up to the camera as it flashed again and again.

It wasn’t until the controlled chaos of the photo shoot had died down that Jev noticed someone who certainly wasn’t smiling. At the back of the room, his arms crossed and looking at Jev with his eyes narrowed, stood reigning Formula 1 champion Sebastian Vettel. The main team had obviously been invited too, Red Bull nothing if not intent on keeping up their image of being a close-knit team, a racing family.

“Hello,” Jev said, approaching cautiously. He held his hand out and Sebastian took it, but the feeling sent a chill up Jev’s arm and down his spine. In all the excitement he hadn’t been aware enough of his surroundings to notice, and he’d never have thought, not in a million years...

“I know what you are,” Sebastian said quietly, doing an impressive job of keeping a photo-friendly smile on his face. Jev could only hope his own stunned surprise translated into being star-struck at meeting such a great racer, rather than being completely bowled over by finding out that the current world champion was also a vampire.

\--

Jev paced his little room quickly, back and forth and turning so fast he was almost making himself dizzy. He knew what was coming, and he didn’t like it. Sebastian had felt _strong_, so strong, and so much _older_. Jev wouldn’t stand a chance. And he had promised himself that racing would be his freedom! It had been foolish to not even _think_ that one of the others might be like him.

He was already heading for the door when the knock interrupted his thoughts, and he opened it within seconds.

“Can I come in?” Sebastian asked. Jev nodded and stepped aside.

In this smaller space it was even clearer how much more of a presence he was. If he hadn’t been so distracted, Jev would have been able to tell straight away.

“Okay,” Sebastian said, sitting down on Jev’s bed. Jev remained standing. It felt too close, too personal to sit down next to him, but he realized that standing still, he felt very exposed.

“Like I said before, I know already what you are, and I’m... I’m like you.”

Jev nodded mutely. Sebastian actually seemed a little _nervous_.

“It’s just like everywhere else, here,” Sebastian continued. “You can’t show anybody, and you can’t feed _here_, you have to go to others, not drivers, and not staff.” He picked at the covers and looked at the floor. “I do it on Thursdays, usually.” He said it very quietly.

“Is... are there more?”

Sebastian looked up.

“No no, just us. Nobody knows. And of course, you can’t... you know.” He made a face, scrunching his nose like he didn’t even like to say it. “You can’t kill here.”

“Of course,” Jev agreed. The elder vampire seemed so strangely disturbed by his role in having to explain this completely obvious information that Jev sat down on the bed too, making sure to leave plenty of space between them.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian suddenly said, looking at him again. “I’ve never really had anyone to... it has always just been me? I’m used to being the youngest.” He smiled apologetically.

Jev nodded again, feeling the years being turned back on him, a young child by comparison who had to be told the rules by his elders – his elders, who looked like a boy not much older than his own current form.

“How old are you?”

Sebastian’s eyes were suddenly distant. “I changed in 1902.”

“19...” Jev couldn’t even imagine. François had been older than him by a fair few decades, and the life he had led had given him experience enough to be in the right to govern Jean-Eric, but he hadn’t been _that_ old.

They sat in silence for a long time, Jev not thinking that he should say something and Sebastian not wanting to intrude. Finally, Seb got up and startled Jev by patting him on the shoulder.

“I think that’s all of it,” he said. “Come to me if you have any problems.”

“All of it?” Jev said, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes?” Sebastian said, blinking. “Unless you had something...”

“No it’s just... that is all of it?”

He’d expected Sebastian to take control, to decide things for him and dictate when and how things would happen. It would more or less be his right. Instead it seemed he felt his duties fulfilled now that he had identified himself and told Jev not to kill. Seb moved toward the door.

“What else would there be?” He waved his goodbyes, Jev waved back, but was left sitting on the bed staring at the door.

_What else would there be?_

It was such a bizarre question. With François there had been rules for everything; he’d hardly been able to keep up despite them spending years together, and when he couldn’t keep up, there had been consequences.

It had only been fair though. He _owed_ François. He supposed that was it. He didn’t _owe_ Sebastian anything, not yet. He’d have to work on keeping it that way.


	3. Finding Comfort

\- 2015 -

The team was decent but the racing was wonderful. Even though he didn’t have any stellar performances as such, they were good enough to keep everybody happy. The real reward, however, was driving the car at all. It made him feel alive in a way nothing else had in a long time, and almost the whole time he was going around the track, he had a smile on his face.

Daniel was good fun too, always smiling and putting his arm over Jev’s shoulders, making jokes and it felt good. It felt _light_. Jev liked it here. The racing, the team, and Daniel... and even the routine with Sebastian was good.

Before the first race Sebastian had come to see him again, asking if he needed “help” without going in to any further detail. Jev had said yes, if nothing else to keep the older vampire happy, and had gone with him to a surprisingly big and busy club where they hadn’t been able to talk much over the loud music. Jev kept sneaking glances at Seb, who had seemed almost skittish as he scanned the room, tapping his foot off-beat, apparently uncomfortable in the loud and crowded environment. Soon enough he started talking to a young woman, playing more insecure than he actually was, Jev thought, watching as Seb smiled coyly, probably deliberately looking down and fumbling his words.

As soon as they touched, Jev had felt Sebastian take her over. Not fully, but enough to influence her into thinking it was a good idea to accompany them both into the disabled bathroom and bare her wrists, staying completely still.

“You first,” Sebastian had said, and looked away while Jev let his fangs extend. He pierced her skin, and tried to drink only just what he needed. Her heartbeat stayed calm and steady, pounding like distant cannon-fire in his ears, and somehow it was almost worse than the gradually slowing rhythm he was used to.

“You have to close it!” Sebastian had hissed when Jev gasped and released her arm.

“What?” His head had been spinning, it had been too long since he’d fed and her blood was so sweet he didn’t want to stop.

Sebastian had pulled her arm roughly out of Jev’s grip and drank from the same cut. The young woman had merely followed the motion, still with a distracted, faraway look in her eyes, like she couldn’t feel nor see them. When Sebastian was finished he’d licked at the wound, cleaning up the blood that had spilled and doing his best to heal the wound quickly.

“You have to close the wound,” Sebastian had said when he stood up straight again, checking himself in the mirror. “Small cuts and bruises are fine but you can’t leave a big...” he waved his hands.

Jev had just stared at him. Now that he was done the woman, who was just kind of sitting there slumped forward, seemingly asleep, made him uncomfortable. Sebastian didn’t seem to care, but he wasn’t looking at her either.

“Close the wound,” Jev had repeated tonelessly. Sebastian had given him a strange look, like he was debating whether to ask something and then decided against it. They left the club, still not talking, and made their way back to their hotel.

It was one of the things Jean-Eric had a hard time wrapping his head around. Sebastian made sure those he fed on were left as unhurt as possible. In part, it was very efficient, but it strangely also meant Sebastian _cared_. François had never cared. It was easy enough to overpower a human who was under the influence of drugs or alcohol or sex, to make them forget and think the cuts were simple accidents, the after-effects just the aftermath of whatever they did the night before.

Sebastian was nice to him, and thorough, and abided by the rules down to the letter. Jev found himself relaxing as they had a few more Thursdays together. Sticking to the rules was simple, and being kept fed was comfortable. He had forgotten just _how_ comfortable.

Then one Friday, he’d finally gotten so relaxed that he screwed it up. Daniel often invited himself to watch movies or just hang out, and Jev liked it. They were friends, and Daniel was so incredibly care-free it was contagious.

So when Dan moved closer, Jev followed suit.

When Daniel made some very suggestive comments about how they might otherwise spend the evening, Jev was surprised, but pleasantly so. As he curled in over Daniel’s lap to give him what he wanted, Daniel scooted down and started stroking Jev’s hair, his hands warm and his fingers shaking with excitement. Jev almost _purred_. Daniel didn’t force him, didn’t push or pull, merely kept touching his hair. His breathing was unsteady and his heart was beating so so fast.

When Daniel had caught his breath, he smiled lazily and started to sink down to his knees in front of Jev. He felt good, so warm and tender that Jev had to close his eyes against the prickling heat stinging in them. One of his hands found Daniel’s, gripping at his thigh, and he intertwined their fingers, thoughtlessly tugging it upward until he could kiss and lick at the inside of Daniel’s wrist.

It was the pulse against his tongue that made him do it. The slight movement and rush he could feel beneath his lips, the excitement stirring up in Daniel again, not as skittish and fast now but slow and heavy, like a train gathering speed, becoming unstoppable.

He nicked the skin, only just enough to let some blood trickle out, the taste tickling his tongue and making him moan wantonly. He wasn’t hungry, he just wanted to taste it, to try it, to be even closer.

When Daniel left, smiling bashfully and stroking Jev’s arm, Jev smiled back and felt his face fall as soon as the door had closed between them. He spent the night pacing, messed up in qualifying the next day, kept away from Daniel as best he could to not repeat the incident, and the next Thursday when Sebastian came to pick him up, he lied and said he’d already fed. Sebastian left looking concerned, and Jev spent another weekend with hunger clawing at his insides, leaving him no rest and distracting him from the race.

Everything gradually felt worse over the coming weeks. Daniel was acting hurt, the team were acting disappointed, and when Sebastian came knocking on his door again, Jev only let him in because he _had_ to.

“What is going on?” Sebastian asked without further preamble, entering the room and putting his backpack on the desk. “I can tell you’re not eating, you have to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” The lie was more habit than untruth, bland and tasteless, with no feeling behind it. He wasn’t hungry. He was _starving._

“I can tell something is wrong, just tell me what it is.” He crossed his arms and stared at Jev without blinking. Jev had the strange feeling that Sebastian could actually read his mind, but he wasn’t a _presence_, he wasn’t inside it – or maybe he was old enough to know how to do it without being seen, without pulling that heavy blackness down over the thoughts and...

Jev swallowed. There was nothing Sebastian could do to fix things, and Jev would be fine either way. So he sat himself down on the floor and started explaining.

Sebastian didn’t interrupt, but his eyebrows twitched a little closer together when Jev mentioned that he’d bitten Daniel. Still, he didn’t seem angry or upset, nor like he wanted to punish Jev for what he had done. When Jev was done talking his chest felt empty, like he had actually talked the feelings out of himself.

“I told you to not hunt here,” Sebastian said with a sigh. “Don’t do it again.” He turned and opened his backpack.

“Wait, I... what are you going to do?”

“I thought maybe the problem was the people,” Sebastian said, pulling out a bag, a plastic blood bag like Jev knew they had at hospitals. He had never seen one in real life before however. “You should have told me, I can help.” He threw the bag to Jev, who was surprised to find it cool to the touch.

“You can have that, if you want. Keep them cold and they last a pretty long time.”

Jev didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing, just nodded and hoped it somehow conveyed the confusion and gratefulness he felt. Sebastian nodded back, and left.


	4. Wants And Needs

Over the summer break, Jev thought long and hard about what Sebastian might be doing. There had to be some kind of plan; their kind was inherently selfish, entirely self-serving, and it made no sense that Sebastian would be any different. He must want _something_.

Whichever way Jev twisted his thoughts however, Sebastian appeared to only be interested in friendship. He seemed be helping freely, and had asked if Jev would require help for the break as well. Jev had declined. Paris was home to him and he felt safe, breathing comfortably surrounded by the old and the new – and the never-ending torrent of people trickling around the city streets made it an ample hunting ground. He stayed in the shadows though. François had _used_. Sebastian _strategized._ Jev preferred to keep it simple. Find someone, get them alone, attack, disappear.

He came back from the break feeling more stable: he apologized to Daniel for being distant and did his best to not express his despair when he saw that flicker of hope in Dan’s smile. He promised betterment to his team and based on his result in the first race, he was making good on that promise. Sebastian asked him if he wanted to go out, and when Jev declined, he simply smiled and left his backpack just inside the door.

It was another week before Daniel invited himself over again. Jean-Eric blamed being tired, feeling a little lonely after the break, and that the bags weren’t really _feeding_ for letting him in. It played out much as it had before. The only difference was that this time, Daniel gave him a strange look as Jev kissed his wrist, the slight pain breaking his focus away from his partner. He didn’t say anything as he left, and Jev did his best to not think about having traded for pleasure, just like he’d promised himself he never would.

Things soon started feeling wrong again. He couldn’t find peace, not with himself, not with the team. The racing still felt like freedom but it wasn’t huge vistas over which to spread his wings; it had turned into a very small window which only barely provided enough air for the suffocating times in between. With guilt crawling under his skin, Jean-Eric finally went to Sebastian to confess what had happened with Daniel.

“Why? Do you need more? I can get you more, you just have to _say_...”

“It’s not that, it’s enough, I just...”

“You have to control yourself!” Sebastian interrupted. “You have to stay fed but you can’t... not _here_. It’s too much risk, you _can’t_ risk getting caught!”

“I didn’t...” Jev didn’t know what to say. The admonishment was worse than what he had expected. Pain would fade, and he healed quickly. This actually hurt, and he bowed his head. “I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t.” He moved in close and put his hands on Jev’s arms, stroking him softly, comfortingly. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Sebastian’s room was nice, and outside the window the reddish lights of the city were keeping the darkness from descending all the way down to the street. Something about the light made it finally click to Jev. The price of his safety was staying with Sebastian, not being with Daniel. _This_ was the error, and the reason for the rule.

The back of his neck prickled, but he still leaned in to the touch, moving closer to Sebastian, who opened his arms for a hug. He had always been nice, Jev thought. He had always treated him fairly, never hurt him or let him starve. It was almost more than he deserved. If this was the price, it might be worth it, for a while at least.

He closed his eyes and closed the last little bit of distance, pressing his lips to Sebastian’s.

“What are you doing?!” Sebastian pushed him away roughly and stared at him. “Why did you do that?!”

“I thought you wanted...”

“No! Not... no.” Sebastian cooled down quickly, his anger not really anger but surprise, Jev realized as he lowered his arms. “I don’t want to do that, not like this. Not with you.” He glanced up, a hint of the young man in his eyes again. “No offense.”

“I... no. No I don’t take offense,” Jev said, shaking his head.

It wasn’t so bad, actually. He’d just been wrong about what Sebastian wanted, that was all. He could live with that. Still, that night, like many to come, sleep refused to come. While he didn’t technically need to sleep some rest was a necessity, and more than once he came to on the floor with frustrated tears still hot on his cheeks, the hours of night gone and the charade of everyday life about to begin.

\--

The second to last race of the year came to an end and Sebastian won another championship. Jev had kept himself sufficiently in the points to ensure another year with the team, but he could feel that they would rather have someone else. He felt strangely uncomfortable in his room and couldn’t wait for the flight home the next day. Something was weighing on him, making his skin prickle like guilt, making it impossible to rest. Since the room wouldn’t offer any respite, he grabbed his jacket and left the hotel, doing his best to stay out of sight of anyone in team colors.

The air was humid but still gave him an instant feeling of freedom. He wandered down the main street, still well-lit and full of cars and people; it wasn’t that late, and the grand prix wasn’t the only reason for parties. Despite never having been here before, it felt like any other city. Full of life, pulsing almost, but at the same time oppressive and different, something to be treated with caution, something to be feared.

Dangling lights lit up the entire main street and he wondered if they were there year-round. It blocked out all the stars and made the night look like it was a ceiling of pure black, waiting to fall and crush the city. A few people called out to him as he walked by and he acknowledged none of them. He didn’t know if they were from the paddock or just fans – or neither, simply calling out because he looked that much like he didn’t belong. The thought lingered. He _didn’t_ belong with them. They were human. They were prey. They would kill him if they only knew, and he had to stay out of sight.

Without thinking he sped up, crossing the street and hurrying back to the hotel. On his way up in the elevator he thought about Sebastian. He was seemingly so comfortable here, both in the team, in the paddock, and around all the people. Maybe it just came with age. He exited the elevator but only gave his own hallway a fleeting look, continuing up the stairs to the floor above. Sebastian had said he could come talk to him if he needed anything. And the part of his mind that said he didn’t need to talk to _anyone_, that he was _fine_ on his own, that he could _handle_ this, was easily satisfied by the completely logical thought that Sebastian was probably still out celebrating.

As soon as he approached the door, he knew that wasn’t the case. The noises coming from inside the door were probably inaudible to human ears, but he picked them up easily. Sebastian had company. There were two sets of panted, excited breaths, two sets of rushing heartbeats. He was obviously celebrating his win in a more _private_ manner.

The hallway was empty but Jev still looked around before reaching for the handle. What made him do it, he didn’t know. The door was closed, and the doors all locked when they closed. As the handle went down and the door opened silently before him, Jev realized Sebastian must have left it in the unlocked position to let his guest in.

He didn’t want to pry. Not really. He didn’t quite know why he did it, he didn’t really think _anything_ as he stepped into the room. It was dark, the only light a faint glow from what must be the bedroom. Not that he had any problem seeing, or hearing.

A man’s shirt was thrown over the back of the armchair nearest the bedroom door, and it didn’t look like one of Sebastian’s. Male company, then. _And if he wasn’t what Sebastian wanted,_ he thought, _then he could at least find out what excited him._

He stopped by the door and peeked inside. Only one bedside lamp was on, giving Sebastian a halo-like glow as he looked down at Jenson, laying beneath him, his hands on Sebastian’s hips. But something was wrong with the image, and Jev felt a chill steal across his skin; Sebastian’s fangs were out, his eyes alight, and he flew forward so fast, Jenson didn’t have a chance to stop him. The vampire bit down on his shoulder, causing him to arch up in pain, his fingers gripping Sebastian even tighter.

“Seb... please...”

It was barely louder than the other rhythmical, heavy breaths but Jev heard it clearly. Sebastian held on when Jenson bucked his hips, his head pushing back even further, his neck bared to the room.

“Oh god Seb, I...”

He spoke through clenched teeth, breathing even harder now, and Jev could hear his heart racing probably about as well as Jenson could feel it in his own chest. Sebastian growled, a low, threatening sound, and bit down even harder. Jenson gasped. Letting go of Sebastian’s hips his hands fell to the bed, gripping at nothing, the rustle of the bedclothes loud in Jev’s ears.

Making as little noise as possible, Jev managed to get his feet moving and got out of the room. He pushed the lock into the automatic position, made sure the door closed, and hurried downstairs to his own room.

Was this why Sebastian had told him to stay away from the drivers? Because they were _his_? The room felt even smaller now, pressing in from all sides, and he started pacing to avoid getting completely stuck. Was Sebastian strong enough to control them all, or did he simply trade with...

Jev shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Jenson had been awake, aware enough of what was going on to be able to speak. He’d seemed _present_, not in that distant, numb state of mind that the control brought.

With his head in his hands, Jev sank to the floor. His whole body felt too hot and he wiped away angry tears. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there when the knock on the door finally came, just that his sleeves were soaked. Getting up on shaky legs, he opened the door and stepped aside without a word. Sebastian came inside and waited until the door was closed again before speaking.

“I know... eh... I know that you... saw that,” he said, looking at his hands rather than at Jev. This feigned shyness pulled the trigger on Jev’s anger, and he stepped forward, right into Sebastian’s personal space.

“What the hell are you thinking?” he snarled, and when Sebastian only looked at him in surprise, he shoved him back. “What the fuck are you doing, hm?”

“It’s not like you think it is, it’s-”

“You’re lying!” Jev stepped forward again. “Do you control them all? Is that... it wasn’t me, it’s Daniel, and everyone?” His thoughts were spinning so fast it was making him dizzy, and he shoved Sebastian even further away from himself, turning to pace away from him.

“Calm down, please Jean-Eric...”

“_No!_” He spun to face him again. “I will not be calm, you talk to me about how important it is to not let anyone see, and then you are doing it yourself! You do not care, you just did not want _me_ to...”

“This is not about _you_!” Sebastian raised his voice, and it made Jev stop in his tracks. He was angry, so angry his fangs had come out without him meaning them to, but he hadn’t really intended to fight and now he was faced with a very angry, elder vampire. He stepped backwards and felt the room follow as Seb stepped forward, shrinking him into a corner with no space to breathe.

“Jean-Eric, please.”

His voice was low and cautious. Sebastian had only moved a step or so closer and had his hands up in surrender.

“I’m... I’m sorry I lied to you. Come here.” He beckoned Jev closer. “Let me try to explain.”

They talked almost through the night. Or Sebastian talked. He explained as best he could about his relationship with Jenson, not one based on the trade of pleasure – at least not the kind Jev had expected. He was kind of repulsed by the idea of using sex to feed, but couldn’t even comprehend the idea of being used for _pain_.

Silences only fell when Sebastian asked him about his past. He told him what he knew. He didn’t remember his human life, but was pretty sure he had been born in the late forties. François had turned him in the sixties, and he remembered seeing his first Formula 1 race in Monaco in 1970. It was a fond memory, making him smile. Then he felt his smile fall away. Before François, there was only darkness.

It seemed to bother Sebastian, who tried asking about what had happened to François. Jev could only tell him what he knew: François had died somehow, he couldn't remember, when they lived in Nice, and since then Jean-Eric had been on his own. Sebastian had nodded, but not said anything. Tired and wrung out, Jev had finally fallen asleep on his shoulder. He woke up alone to his blaring alarm, the bed cold and uncomfortable.


	5. The Devil Controls The Details

It had made sense to be nervous during your first racing weekend but the nerves and the unrest had lingered well into his last race. The room looked perfectly comfortable and he was certain he was alone, free to relax. He had also fed that Thursday, as was Sebastian’s habit. Still Saturday night came with sleep refusing to join him and the thoughts running wild in his mind. For some reason the room was stifling.

Jev stalked over to the window and flung it open, inviting the night air in. It felt clean and clear against his bare skin, and somehow he felt freer than just a minute before. The light from the city washed away a lot of the stars but the half-moon still shone down on him, a soft and inviting night light, almost like the caress of a familiar lover. The light seemed to sweeten the air and he took a deep, greedy breath, hungry for the peace and lightness.

Leaving the window open he went back into the room. Since he was well-fed he didn’t need much rest, but it wasn’t so much the lack of sleep as the general discomfort he felt being stuck in his room. The fresh air had helped ease the feeling but as soon as he pulled the covers over himself it encased him again, swallowing him up from every side and leaving him feeling suffocated. Flailing his arms and legs he fought the covers off and was left lying in the middle of the bed panting for air.

His results weren’t good enough. _He_ wasn’t good enough. Not at the racing, not at hiding, not good enough to keep the tears at bay. Like many nights before, he didn’t find sleep but rather succumbed to his own exhaustion, crying out his frustrations and waking the next morning feeling just as stuck as the night before. He couldn’t go on like this, he just couldn’t.

“Jev, what’s wrong?”

Jev sighed and kept walking, doing his best to not even look at Sebastian. Whatever lie he might tell, he was sure Seb would be able to see it in his eyes. For the moment it felt easiest to say nothing at all.

“Come on,” Sebastian persisted, keeping in step with him and somehow managing to smile and wave to a few fans as they walked. The perfect balance that Jev felt he could never pull off; whatever was going on the older drivers, and particularly Sebastian, could always smile and be pleasant and still look busy enough that few people dared approach. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Jev said, trying his hand at a smile. It felt like a grimace. “I did not sleep very well.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

“I’m just nervous, everything is fine,” Jev tried.

“Hm,” Sebastian said, again waving at some people. Someone held out a shiny picture and he stopped to sign it, immediately finding himself surrounded by more cards. Starting from the left and, as usual, with a smile, he started signing.

“I’ll talk to you later?” he said over his shoulder. Jev shrugged and walked on. Nobody was holding a picture out for him.

By Sunday night he felt terrible. The result hadn’t been what the team had expected, and they weren’t even bothering to hide their disappointment. Jev had showered and packed most of his things already, actually looking forward to the early Monday flight. It was a flight back to home, back to normalcy, back to a place where he could at least _breathe_. Maybe the racing really just wasn’t for him. The same struggle, weekend after weekend, and for what? The toll it was taking on his nerves didn’t feel worth it in the slightest anymore.

The knock on the door startled him and he got up off the floor. He hadn’t really registered sitting down, it was more as if he’d finally paced himself out of energy and just ended up there. When he opened the door he thought he must look it too, from the way Sebastian looked at him.

“Jean-Eric,” Seb said in an almost pitying tone that Jev instantly hated. “Jean-Eric, what’s wrong?”

His French wasn’t great, but he could make himself understood. Jev kind of appreciated the effort, but while he felt more trusting towards Sebastian now he still didn’t want to explain that things just didn’t _feel_ right. Mentally, he had prepared a handful of lies and excuses: the results, the car, the team, the constant pressure, all adding up to him not sleeping as he should, wearing him down and leaving him stressed and unfocused. He would try better, and saying so would get Sebastian off his case, at least for the time being.

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” he said with a sob. He hadn’t thought of saying it but it was impossible to stop the words. As he sank to his knees, finding the floor again, Sebastian rushed inside, closing the door and getting to his knees too.

“Oh Jean-Eric...” he said, closing his arms around him. Jev tried to speak but all that came out was another heaving sob. Sebastian smelled a bit like home and he buried his face against his shoulder with a deep breath, feeling relief flood into him. Sebastian helped him get food, Sebastian had won the championship. There was nothing Sebastian couldn’t do.

He didn’t know how long they were kneeling there, Sebastian gently rubbing his back and letting him cry himself out, but when he felt stable enough to sit up he realized the older vampire was tense and alert.

“What...” he started, but Seb held up his hand. Slowly, as if expecting someone to jump out from hiding in the room, he got to his feet.

“Jev...” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Jev, do your rooms feel like this... all the time?”

“Feel like what?” Jev looked around. The room looked the same and the stressed, stuck feeling was a little easier to carry now that Seb was there.

Sebastian sniffed the air. “It feels wrong.”

“The window has been closed.” Jev stood up too. His legs felt wobbly and unsteady. Now that he was trying to figure out what Seb was looking for, he felt it too. The air was stale, like always, and despite the room being like any other, it was as if everything in there _itched_.

Sebastian stepped cautiously towards the bed, eyes moving from side to side like he was slowly scanning the room. For a second, Jev thought he might be looking for evidence of him hunting again, but Seb reached his hand out and stroked the sheet. With a little hiss, he pulled his hand back.

“What’s wrong?” Jev asked.

Looking at his palm and then the bed, Sebastian turned toward the bathroom.

“No...” he said, hesitantly. “He wouldn’t...”

“What?” Jev asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. The walls were closing in again and Sebastian was acting strange rather than helping. Something more to stress out about was the last thing he needed.

“Smell this,” Sebastian said, picking up the cover and holding it out. “Smell it,” he repeated when Jev just blinked at him.

Jev leaned in and sniffed his bedclothes. They smelled of hotel laundry, a generic detergent and proximity to other cleaning products. There was a slight hint of his own scent, a mix of deodorant, sweat, sleep, and eau de cologne.

But underneath it all, there was another scent. An acrid smell of something that made the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

“What is that?” He had to get away from the covers. The smell wasn’t the kind of stink that made you feel sick, it was the kind that made your skin crawl, the kind that made it impossible to feel right.

“Wacholder,” Sebastian said, his voice low and his eyes still moving. “The thing in gin,” he added when Jev just shook his head. “It’s... not good for us.”

“But why is that in my room? Is it in the cleaning products?”

“No...” Sebastian sounded like he had barely heard him, and Jev was just about to ask when Sebastian spoke again.

“I think we... should go to my room. You need to rest and... I need to make a phone call.”

Jean-Eric packed his things and moved them into Sebastian’s room. It felt so much bigger, nice and airy, and Jev put his bag down in the hallway feeling both strengthened and a bone-deep exhaustion. Sebastian didn’t say anything but took out his phone and spoke to someone in fast, rough-sounding German. Jev had never learned the language. They spoke for a long time and while Sebastian hadn’t given him permission, he went to sit down on the couch.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Sebastian gently touched his arm and woke him up.

“I think I know what happened.”

While he couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes, he felt more relaxed than in a long time. Jev sat up.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“It’s fine,” Sebastian interrupted. “You know I said you should always be careful, and that you can’t hunt here? It’s not just because...” he took a deep breath and seemed to choose a different phrasing. “There are people here who know about us, who want to hurt us.”

“What?!”

“They don’t know about _us_,” Sebastian tried to explain. “They... _he_... knows there are... people like us, and he hates them. Eh, us. He’s always keeping an eye on it because he _knows_ that we exist at all.”

“So he... found out about me? But how?”

Seb shook his head sadly. “Daniel. You did enough to make him suspicious.”

“_Daniel_ is wanting to kill me?” It didn’t fit at all. Smiley, friendly Daniel? Who had seemed so pleased that they were friends again, who seemed to actually _want_ him, for whatever reason?

“No no, not Daniel, but what you _did_ to Daniel is enough to make him... he’s done it before. There have been others, and he’s driven them away.”

“I didn’t leave anything on Daniel!”

“You left enough.” Sebastian sighed. “He’s very careful, especially about his drivers.”

“_His_ drivers..?”

“Doctor Marko. I don’t know what he is, exactly, he’s not like us but he’s very, very old.”

Jean-Eric felt his world spin much too fast and was glad he was already sitting down. Marko had always been an ominous cloud hanging over any and all business with Red Bull and Toro Rosso, but Jev had always thought he was that way with everybody. Now he knew. That feeling of something incredibly ancient wasn’t entirely human. If he had been more observant, he would have noticed.

“So... what do we do now?”

Again, they ended up talking through the night. Sebastian promised he would figure something out, and Jean-Eric felt that strange sense of trust once more. Sebastian was actually willing to help.

“Why hasn’t Marko realized... about you?” he asked when their conversation had finally died down and they were both left in their own, silent thoughts. Sebastian smiled.

“I’m very, very good at hiding.”


	6. What We're Meant To Be

Paris always felt like a homecoming and Jean-Eric greeted it with open arms. His small, anonymous apartment was like an old friend and he unpacked and washed his things, eager to get all traces of the offensive juniper off. He had to smile to himself. He’d been told stories of vampires as a child. That they feared garlic and water and the sign of the cross. None of it was true. Instead it was a simple but very pungent plant that disturbed them. He’d never even known. There were a lot of things François had never bothered to tell him.

Two weeks into the break, Sebastian called and asked to meet him. They found each other at the airport and if Jev hadn’t been looking for him, he never would have seen him. Sebastian still looked like Sebastian, but something about him was different. Like he was actively not _being_ Sebastian just then. The humans seemed to feel the same, walking right past him. The current world champion in the highest racing series in the world, and in a crowd of people, he was nobody.

“I have a plan,” he said, smiling broadly. They settled in one of the little cafés, and Jev looked around, suddenly feeling like nobody could see them at all. Sebastian took a folder out of the backpack he was always carrying around.

“This...” Jev said, opening the folder and scanning the document. “This is a contract?”

Sebastian nodded. “If you want to keep racing, it’s not safe for you here. But I know some people, and...”

“You... you did this in just two weeks?”

“They’ve seen you drive and they know you’re good,” he shrugged.

“But... two weeks? For a seat with...”

“I told you I know some people, honestly, it wasn’t too difficult. After the break, if you want, you can go race with them. I’ll make sure that there is some kind of incident, after the break, so that Doctor Marko thinks it wasn’t you.”

“Why?”

“If you ever want to come back,” Sebastian said, sounding surprised. “You have only raced for one season, your career isn’t _over_.”

Jean-Eric read the papers again. It was a simple enough contract, and he had to admit it would feel good to keep racing, to feel that freedom again.

“Your teammate,” Sebastian said, clearing his throat. “If you sign, I mean, your teammate, he’s...”

“He’s one of us?”

“He’s the last one Marko drove away.” Sebastian nodded and smiled fondly. “He is a little bit different, but I think you can get along, you know. I think he can teach you things.”

“About racing?”

“About a lot of things. And I think it would suit you, you know. You’re a much better hunter than you think you are.” He tapped the logo at the top of the contract, and left Jev sitting at the little airport café. Almost as soon as he was gone, a woman came over and asked if she could move the chair he had been in. Jev said she could, without looking up. He stroked the little logo with his finger. He wasn’t sure Sebastian was right about him being a hunter, but for some reason, he felt kind of drawn to the little stylized cheetah.

\--

\- 2016 -

Sebastian was very secretive and didn’t say anything more about his future teammate. Jev looked him up himself, but for some reason didn’t make contact until they were shaking hands before the first team photoshoot. While it reminded him forcefully of his first meeting with Daniel, he already knew that this was a man who would not be charmed or fooled. André smiled at him, looked him up and down, nodded once, and then turned his confident smile on the camera. If Sebastian had felt old, André felt positively _ancient_.

The first few weeks of testing and working with the team passed in a whirl and for once Jev embraced it. He wasn’t sure where the future would lead him but he was certain that wherever it was, it would be better than Red Bull had been. In front of cameras and in front of the team, he was on his absolutely best behavior; he smiled when told to, shook the right hands, and kept his temper in check. Sebastian called to ask if he needed any kind of help, and Jev said no. André had already set up a routine for them.

“I’m not going to hunt for you, you know,” he said, checking himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie.

“I don’t want you to, I just want to know where I am allowed to... go.” Jev had been watching André getting ready. He dressed like he was going on a date or something, and had insisted Jev wear a suit too.

“Allowed to go?” André turned to look at him, smiling. “You can go wherever you want, I don’t care.”

“What?”

André walked over to him, still smiling. Even just walking across the room there was such a swagger in his step that it left Jev feeling impressed. Here was a man who had seen enough to not worry about the little things. He adjusted the lapels of Jev’s jacket and then took hold of his upper arms, looking him in the eyes.

“Relax. Do what you are meant to do. You’re pretty enough to get away with _anything_, so just go for it.”

“I don’t... trade.” Jev looked away, feeling small in the older vampire’s hold. André blinked.

“Trade?”

“For sex.”

“Oh. Well you don’t have to. Come on.”

André embraced the hunt with a passion Sebastian had never exhibited. He moved comfortably around the club he selected for them, ordered drinks for the both of them and proceeded to find a standing table out on the terrace. It overlooked a busy street and the club was a miniature version of every large city Jev had ever visited, pulsing with life, full of the sights and smells and sounds of humans forever going about their nightly business. Revelry and tears, songs and screams, hundreds and hundreds of hearts beating a sound like the rolling of waves against his ears.

“Who do you want?” André leaned in a little to speak, his breath sweet with the smell of his drink.

“I... don’t know. You pick. I don’t care.”

“No no, tonight is about _you_,” André grinned. “Pick someone.”

“It’s that easy for you?”

“Of course.” He took another sip of his drink, looking completely at his ease. Jev drank too, the alcohol far from enough to affect his senses. “A good hunter cares about his prey. We’re not after a trophy to hang on a wall, it’s just for food. Quick and easy, for us, and for them.”

Jev looked at his drink. It was swirling green with ice cubes in it, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t come out at all. “That’s not usually how I...”

“I know,” André interrupted. “Sebastian said you had trouble being comfortable. All I can say is that you are what you are. So am I. You have the choice. Don’t be cruel to them, don’t play, don’t hurt. But _hunt_. It is in your nature now.”

“I don’t know how.”

André snorted in disbelief.

Every week, race or no race, they would meet and go out to clubs or pubs, and André would do his best to show Jean-Eric how he hunted. He charmed people, but not like Sebastian, who used a subtle measure of control to make people docile. André made them _want_ it. Not usually in a sexual way, but some of his prey certainly wished for it, Jev could tell. He made Jev practice, let him do it himself, and sometimes went without while letting Jev prove himself.

“It’s only because of the controlling,” Jev said when André pointed out a young man clearly eyeing Jev with interest.

“What controlling? I’m not controlling.” André smiled at Jev and then looked over his shoulder at the man and winked at him. The man blushed, looking away. “You’re attractive, and you’re young, and you’re interesting to them. Give them even a little bit of what they want, and they will give you _anything_.”

It took Jev until halfway through the season to realize every single outing with André was a test. A test of his loyalty and self-control. André tested him to stay anonymous and hidden, but also to take care of himself. Finally, after all this time, he had been given a choice. He realized he had stopped worrying about being secretive, certain that nobody would remember. It was comfortable to be around André, who wasn’t as flighty as François or the people he had often chosen for company, and not as homebound as Sebastian. He was stable, but he was stable everywhere.

“Sebastian likes to be comfortable,” André said one night in Berlin. The Formula 1 race had been only a few days previous and there were still posters up around the city and clips running on TV. “It’s nice, but it has never been what I want.”

“You don’t want to be comfortable? You always seem comfortable.”

“That’s what I mean,” André said with a grin. “Sebastian likes to keep his comfort, keep things the same. I take my comfort with me.”

Jean-Eric nodded. André spoke so freely about things, it never felt like lessons but Jev could tell he was learning a lot that Sebastian had never been sure of how to teach him.

“How old are you?” he asked, the question one that had been on his mind since he had first met the older man. It was André’s turn to look down at his drink, something Jev often did when buying some time before answering whatever André had asked of him.

“Let me just say the wars were tough.”

“Which war?”

André looked up and met his eyes, and for once, he wasn’t smiling.

“All of them.”

It was another few weeks before Jev dared lean in when André adjusted his tie, pressing a short but very deliberate kiss to the corner of his mouth. André let his tie slip from between his fingers and took a deep breath. Jev was ready to apologize, as usual mistaking kindness for affection, when André looked up at him.

“Finally,” he said.

“The only thing that bothers me,” Jean-Eric confided at the penultimate race of the season when they were alone in their hotel room, “is Doctor Marko. Sebastian is still where Marko can get to him.”

“Get to him?” André said with a little snort, pausing in unbuttoning his team shirt. “Sebastian likes to be comfortable too much for that.”

Jev waited for him to go on but all André did was hang his shirt over the back of a chair and walk shirtless to his bag to grab a clean one.

“What do you mean, he likes to be comfortable?”

“I mean Sebastian has very powerful friends, and he likes to be comfortable. It is not smart to mess with a man like that.” He shook out a fresh shirt and put it on, but left it unbuttoned. “Do you know about Kimi?”

“Kimi Raikkonen, yeah?”

“Yeah but you know he and Sebastian are..?”

Jev choked on nothing and coughed. “Kimi?!”

“Yeah,” André snickered. “He went away to do rally for a while, but they were always together. Kimi is...” he seemed to look for a word, his eyes narrowed and looking off into space. “Kimi is very old, and very, very powerful.”

“When I was there, Sebastian was with...” Jev stopped, pressing his lips together. Did it perhaps reflect badly on Sebastian to have been in a relationship with a human? “Someone else.”

“Yeah, he does that. He’s allowed to.” André checked his hair. “Now that Kimi is back, Sebastian will be his again.” He strode over to were Jev was standing, still wearing his black and gold team shirt. He unbuttoned the top button for him.

“Relationships can be strange, when things are like this,” he said conversationally. He unbuttoned another button and glanced up, looking for Jev’s permission to go on. Jev licked his lips, and another button was undone. “But we have... this... so we have everything.”

“Everything?” Jev whispered.

“Everything,” André grinned. “Everything and anything we want.”

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :)  
Thanks for the read! <3 Any comments and kudoses will be given hot chocolate and lots of love! ;)


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